


Marigolds

by Archadian_Skies



Category: The Evil Within (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 04:42:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11547705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archadian_Skies/pseuds/Archadian_Skies
Summary: From the tumblr prompt: “Sometimes I steal flowers from your garden on my way to the cemetery, but today you’ve caught me and have demanded to come with me to make sure the “girl is pretty enough to warrant flower theft” and I’m trying to figure out how to break it to you that we’re on our way to a graveyard”





	Marigolds

Marigolds lined the picturesque white fence of his property, and Joseph took great care of them. They coloured his garden with bursts of yellows, oranges and reds, and never failed to add a little cheer to his life.

Gardening was a hobby somewhat borne of necessity ever since he bought the tiny house almost a decade ago. The previous owners had been an elderly couple, and the woman had tended her garden as lovingly as a mother. It would be a shame to let her love wither away, and so Joseph found himself looking after her plants and flowers with great care.

It also helped him unwind from his stressful nine-to-five, and banished the dreariness of earning a paycheck to a faraway thought on weekends. Over the years as his garden grew, so did his fondness for it and so he was quick to notice when marigolds began to disappear.

Blooms would be snipped here and there, unnoticeable to the unfamiliar eye but not to Joseph. It happened precisely once a month, though the timing varied. And always the marigolds, never the roses or the lavender.

Feeling both irritated and insulted, Joseph made it his mission to catch the culprit who seemed to have no qualms helping themselves to his flowers.

* * *

 

She loved marigolds the best, ever since she was old enough to remember wearing them in her hair and placing  _ofrendas_  for  _El Dia de los Muertos._ She was named after a different flower, but marigolds were her favourite.

Her tiny white coffin had been covered in them when she was buried. 

Florists rarely stocked the flowers unless it was leading up to the holiday and it never felt right for Sebastian to lay lilies on her grave. Lilies were too crisp, too white, too cold. They lacked the warmth and vibrancy of marigolds, which always reminded him of his daughter’s lively personality.

Roadworks one afternoon forced him on a different route to the cemetery, and a few blocks before the carpark he spotted a tidy little house bursting with marigolds. He could barely believe it, and after a quick glance around he couldn’t spot a car in the driveway or anyone inside for the time being. Using his swiss army knife he quickly cut away a few blossoms here and there, trying to make the disappearances seem as invisible as possible.

Once a sizable bouquet was harvested, Sebastian tucked his knife away and headed for Lily’s grave. With his busy work schedule he could only set aside one weekday afternoon a month to visit her, but at least now he knew he wouldn’t come empty handed.

* * *

 

“HEY ASSHOLE!” Sebastian barely had time to look up before he was blasted with water from a garden hose. “Those are my flowers! Hey! Stop cutting up my marigolds!”

Sputtering, Sebastian coughed and rubbed his eyes so he could get a look at him. A young man with glasses was glaring at him, aiming the garden hose like a gun and trying to look menacing whilst wearing a floppy sun hat.

“Ah, sorry they’re just-” he coughed again, wiping his face with the back of his sleeve, “they’re her favourite flower and no one around here sells them.”

“So you’re helping yourself to my flowers?” The man asked, furious. “What is this, build a bouquet?”

“Look man, I’m sorry. I know it’s-” Sebastian sighed.

“Take me to her.” The man demanded, throwing his sunhat aside and plucking the housekeys from the door. “If you’re using my flowers to woo some damn girl she better be worth it.”

“Ah- no, no that’s not-”

“You take me to meet her or I call the cops.”

 _I **am**  a cop. _Sebastian groaned inwardly, at a loss as to how to diffuse the situation. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes. I need to see that my marigolds aren’t going to waste.” Seeing that the man wasn’t going to change his mind any time soon, Sebastian surrendered to his demand.

“Alright buddy but she doesn’t talk much. This way.” 

The walk was a brisk, silent one and every now and then the stranger would shoot him an irritated glare. As the walk went on, however, the glare shifted to one of confusion as he surveyed his surroundings.

“Hey- uhm, are we almost there? Are we going to cut across here?”

Sebastian shrugged as he led the way down the main path through the cemetery. Up four and left across seven; far too familiar steps.

“Here we are.” He declared with as much bravado as he could muster. “ _Mija_  look, we have a visitor today!” 

“…Oh. Oh my god.” 

“He wants to know if you like his marigolds.” Sebastian continued, dropping into a crouch and replacing the withered bouquet with the fresh one in his hand. “Your  _papi_  has been nicking them from his garden you see, and he’s rather angry at me.”

“I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry, god I’m-”

“So Lily, do you like his marigolds?” Rubbing the top of her tombstone as if mussing her hair, Sebastian leaned forward and kissed her engraved name. 

_Lily Lynh Castellanos  
July 18, 2006 - February 11, 2012_

“What do you think?” Straightening, he turned back to face the stranger frozen in place. “This isn’t her best look I know- this one’s better.” Digging his phone out of his pocket, he showed him the lockscreen photo of Lily laughing as she cuddled her favourite teddy bear. “Cute enough for your marigolds right?”

“I’m really- I’m so-”

“I shouldn’t have taken them.” Sebastian confessed. “I stole them from you and it didn’t even occur for me to ask.”

“It’s ok.” The stranger managed. “S’fine.”

“I won’t do it again, I swear. This is the last you’ll ever see of me.”

“No! No- no it’s ok.” The stranger blurted, shaking his head. “It’s ok. I’ll- I’ll set aside some for her. One bouquet, every month. It’s fine, I promise.”

“Yeah?” He quirked his mouth briefly into a grin. “We’d like that, er- never did catch your name.”

“Joseph.” He held out his hand.

“Sebastian.” He shook his hand firmly. “Thanks for not calling the cops on me. Would’ve been real awkward y’know. Since I’m one myself.”

“… _What_?”

* * *

 

Her favourite colour was red, and wrapped around the marigold bouquet was a bright red ribbon.

“Thanks Joseph.” Sebastian smiled as he accepted the flowers gratefully. 

“it’s ok, really.” Joseph returned his smile, albeit a little self-consciously. “It’s- it’s a really nice day today. For visiting her.”

“Yeah, sun’s come out of hiding which is nice. She’ll like it.” He tried smiling again, but his heart wasn’t in it anymore. “I’ll be off now.”

“Say hi to her for me, please?” Joseph asked, and he nodded.

“Sure thing.”

* * *

 

It was always harder in Winter, always colder and dreary and disheartening. Still, the bursts of colour from the marigolds helped ease his weariness a little as Joseph handed him the bouquet.

Cursing as the skies opened, he contemplated turning back when he heard footsteps behind him.

“Sebastian wait!” Joseph caught up to him, holding an umbrella and adjusting his grip so Sebastian could fit under it. “Here.”

“Thanks Joseph.” He smiled genuinely, taking the umbrella from him. “I’ll bring it back when I’m done.”

“Do you…do you maybe want to come in for a cup of coffee after?” Joseph hesitantly offered. “Stay until the rain lets up?”

When Sebastian sucked in a breath, contemplating his answer, Joseph hurriedly shook his head.

“I didn’t mean anything by it, I just- it’s terrible out here today. If you’re busy it’s fine, it’s just coffee to wait out the rain.”

The flustered expression on Joseph’s face elicited a tired, but relaxed laugh from him, and Sebastian nodded.

“Coffee would be great, thanks.”

* * *

 

After the fire, after Myra left, Sebastian could hardly stand large houses. They only ever served to remind him of how alone he now truly was. His apartment was a shoebox that held only his essentials and few things sentimental things he treasured. Most, like his daughter, had been burned to ashes years ago.

He had no backyard, no frontyard of his own and though he had a balcony there wasn’t enough space for him to grow anything. Certainly not marigolds.

But Joseph Oda, the man who lived in the tidy house with the tidy white fence and a garden of flowers, grew marigolds and once a month he made a bouquet tied with a red ribbon just for Lily.

Without really noticing it, Sebastian looked more and more forward to seeing not just his daughter’s grave, but Joseph too. Coffee that one rainy afternoon became just another activity slotted into his monthly schedule.

Joseph himself was a quiet man, hailing from Toronto originally before he moved to Krimson for college. He kept to himself, but had a spitfire temperament when provoked- as Sebastian discovered the day Joseph caught him red-handed. 

It was nice, though, to have a friend. To have someone other than a tombstone to talk to, or that wasn’t a cop or work-related in some way. It was a relief, like a weight lifted from his chest and instantly helped him to breathe.

He told Joseph all about his beautiful daughter, about how bright and bubbly she was and how she had her whole life ahead of her only for it to be snatched away because he couldn’t reach her in time, because he worked long hours and wasn’t home when she needed him the most.

And when he cried, when he finally cried about how much it hurt, Joseph wrapped his arms around him as he fell to pieces and said nothing, and it was the most perfect answer he could receive because he was tired, so tired of all the pity and the apologies and the it will get betters.

It wouldn’t, not really, and grief never healed it only dulled and sometimes the best numbing medication was the presence of a friend.

* * *

 

“Hey  _mija_ , how are you today?” Sebastian dusted her tombstone, swapping the old flowers for the new ones. “It’s Summer again, huh? You’re turning eight today,  _cariño_.” 

He traced the lettering of her name fondly, his fingers used to the grooves carved there. Fumbling through his pockets, he withdrew a small velvet box.

“Today’s a big day for both of us, hm? Wish me luck.”


End file.
